


find you

by maleclipse



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Attempt at Humor, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:41:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24310717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maleclipse/pseuds/maleclipse
Summary: There was a strange man living in the apartment next to Greg Lestrade’s and it read Holmes on the door.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 14
Kudos: 124





	find you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mikethelipe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikethelipe/gifts).



> based on mike's prompt "why do you always hold that umbrella when you could hold my hand instead?"
> 
> this is for u, mike. ily and thanks for making me write this lmao.

There was a strange man living in the apartment next to Greg Lestrade’s and it read Holmes on the door. 

Greg first saw him when he was getting out of his apartment; Holmes was a tall, well-dressed man with an umbrella. He didn’t fit in the scenery of the dark hallway of their apartment building. 

(It wasn’t like it was the poorest neighbourhood in London, but it was not the fanciest either.)

Greg almost wanted to comment on how it wasn’t raining outside, but kept his mouth shut and only nodded to the new neighbour. Holmes nodded back, his mouth tight. 

Greg didn’t think much of the interaction. 

The next time he saw Holmes was outside their building, in the sunset, with his umbrella. Greg was walking past when a black, fancy car parked in front of Holmes and the other man stepped into the backseat. Greg watched the car drive away and then frowned at the bus stop, like it was its fault that the fancy new man living in his apartment building had a better ride. 

Greg took the bus to his favourite coffee shop and drank his coffee black. 

The first time he heard Holmes speak was on the phone, sounding rather annoyed while saying, ” _Please, Sherlock, find yourself a new hobby._ ” He pretended he hadn’t heard anything when Holmes gave him a court nod and disappeared into his apartment. 

Greg found himself wondering if Sherlock was a kid (unlikely - Holmes didn’t seem like a man with a child), a friend (a little more likely, but Holmes didn’t seem very friendly either) or maybe a brother. Yeah, brother seemed most likely. 

Despite Holmes being strange, Greg was fascinated by him. The way he seemed way too rich to live in that small apartment next to his, and sometimes disappeared for days. He drank coffee from the same coffee shop (that was, fair enough, next to the building) every day and had that goddamned umbrella with him most of the time. God, for all Greg knew the umbrella could hold state secrets or something similar.

He found out who Sherlock was, when Holmes was standing outside his own apartment with another man (tall, like him, with black and curly hair) and Greg was coming home from work. 

”You’re a policeman,” the other man stated, when Greg was opening the door to his apartment. ”You never told me your neighbour is a policeman!” 

Greg didn’t even dare to ask how the man knew - maybe it was a guess. A good one, but judging from the seemingly drugged state of the man, it could be nothing else. 

” _Sherlock!_ ” Holmes hissed and then offered a tight, apologetic smile to Greg. ”I’m sorry about my brother.” 

”Uh,” Greg could only say, ”it’s fine?” 

He closed the door behind his back with a loud thud and cringed. Oh, man, a way to make an impression. 

It was actually raining when Greg saw Holmes next, and while everyone else was huddled together at the bus stop or in front of the door waiting for their rides, Holmes was right where he usually stood with a cup of coffee in one hand and the umbrella in the other, now held open above his head. It was not like Greg was stalking, he just had a view to the street from his window. 

Holmes disappeared to a black car with tinted windows, just like every morning. 

The first time Greg realized he found the strange man living next door attractive was when he was too lazy to go down the stairs and took a lift instead. Holmes soon joined him, nodded, and stood the whole way by the doors in front of Greg. And it just happened to be that it gave him a full view of his arse. Greg pretended not to look. 

“Ah, shit,” he cursed to himself as they parted ways. 

Needless to say, his life became hell after that realization. He started seeing Holmes everywhere and all the time. (Or maybe the same amount, but he just noticed it more. And it was making his life very hard to bear.)

Greg felt like he was in high-school again, blushing every time he saw the stupid man with his stupid umbrella. 

When his favorite coffee shop was closed, Greg visited the one next to their apartment building - the same one Holmes visited to retrieve his morning coffee. Or tea, whatever. Greg didn’t actually know what the other man liked to drink. 

And of course, Holmes was there, already waiting on the line.

Greg greeted him with an awkward, _“morning,_ ” and Holmes nodded, as usual, as Greg stepped to stand behind him. 

“Good morning, Gregory,” Holmes surprised Greg by saying. Maybe for the unusualness of the greeting (all Greg had gotten since then was just court nods and tight smiles, maybe two actual words) or the fact that Holmes seemed to know Greg’s full name, while Greg hadn’t told him that. 

Maybe he should’ve been a little more alarmed, he wondered, as he watched just another customer leave the shop with a hot cup of coffee. It was sunny outside. 

“Nice weather,” Greg commented, eyeing the umbrella in Holmes’ right hand. He was leaning on it, and with his expensive suit and that stupid not-smile (but something that resembled one), it was a look. 

“Talking about the weather?” he asked. There was a hint of amusement in his voice. 

“Yes,” Greg said, “I am.”

“Very... classy of you,” Holmes said and Greg only shrugged. 

“If you want to call it that, then sure,” he answered. 

The other man’s face was unreadable and Greg watched as he stepped in front of the counter and placed his order. 

When it was Greg’s turn and he took his wallet to pay, the cashier smiled and shook her head. “Your coffee has been paid for already,” she said. 

Greg turned to look outside the window just in time to see Holmes step in that black car again, but this time with a small, but real, smile on his face. 

“Oh,” he said only. 

It was the next morning when they both got out of their apartments right after each other, and Greg got his chance to say, “Thanks for the coffee, man.” 

Holmes looked at him a bit weirdly, before answering with, “It’s Mycroft.” 

And if Greg took knowing the other man’s first name as a win, he didn’t show it on his face. Mycroft suited him well, Greg noted to himself, and spent the whole way down definitely _not looking_ at Mycroft’s ass.

And after that, talking when they happened to run to each other wasn’t unusual anymore. Greg found their little conversations endearing and would have to call himself a fool if he’d pretend like there wasn’t _something_ between them. It was small, but it was _something_. 

On one particular evening, embarrassingly drunk after a night out, Greg knocked on Mycroft’s door for the first time. He had a mission. Mycroft came to answer in surprisingly casual clothes, and it threw Greg off a bit. (Not that it was a bad look, it was just _surprising_.) 

“You’re drunk,” said Mycroft as a greeting, and Greg smiled widely. 

“You have a great ass,” he said as an answer. 

Mycroft frowned. “What?” 

“Oh, I thought,” Greg started and frowned, too, “I thought that we were just telling random facts here! _Sorry_ , my bad.” 

Mycroft actually smiled at that. Greg liked the sight. 

“Did you need something, or?” Mycroft asked. 

“Yes.” Greg had to think very hard to remember what he came there for - there was something he wanted to say. 

Mycroft raised his eyebrows. He looked quite amused, or maybe annoyed. Greg couldn’t really tell.

“Why do you always have that _stupid_ umbrella?” Greg asked. When Mycroft was about to answer, Greg continued with, “ _Wait_ , that wasn’t all.”

Mycroft closed his mouth. 

“Why do you always have that stupid umbrella, when you could hold my hand instead?” Greg was actually proud of that one. Kind of. It was kind of stupid, too, but a genuine question and he was feeling _brave_. 

Mycroft let out a surprised laugh and shook his head - _definitely amused_. Greg had to hold on to the wall to stand up straight. 

“I do have two hands,” Mycroft finally answered and Greg’s face broke into a smile. 

Because maybe the man living next door was a bit strange, but also willing to hold Greg’s hand and that was all that mattered. 

**Author's Note:**

> please leave kudos &/or comment if you enjoyed!! it means everything to me. 
> 
> i also have [twitter](https://twitter.com/LACASADEKLAUS)


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